and just like that, she walked on out.
Sigh. Once again it's been a while. Sigh.
So with the "Remember your failure at the tree Florida" still on my mind, and with the memories fading as fast as the tan, i hit a crossroad and i am wondering if i have taken the right path because it's not too late to turn back. As usual, one of the seven rules "trust your instincts" applies. And everyone else seems to have faith in me, so perhaps i am going in the right direction. I have a new keyboard for my battered Artoo unit Acer Travelmate.
My poor Acer! It really has served me so wonderfuly and faithfully these five years. Despite its non-gaming graphics - probably a good thing - i can not really complain about it.
I have not installed it yet, i am going to need an hour free [which between work and recovery and for what passes as a social life is not likely to be anytime soon] to fix it. It will be nice to have numbers again, and perhaps i will have a use for the function keys. The on screen keyboard is driving me mad.
I need to find a place to live and not just to crash. It's really pissing me off. But i have given Crazy Redhead my Tuesday shift, to stop her ceaseless bitching and paranoia, which is also pissing me off, and i can use that day or perhaps Wednesday before work [as if! don't see it happening] to find something at least for a month while Igg and Ogg, Tweedledum and Tweedleevenmorestupid, "Mike" and "Fiona" to my apparent "Sam" [i get to be Bruce Campbell - yay!], my two new roomies-to-be settle on a place. It's beginning to feel like "Glacial Pace" would be a fair assessment, but i suspect that is me getting edgy about not having anywhere to live.
I am having trouble at work and i think it's a matter of being sober. I think being sober makes it suck more. Especially with our new leadership who has surpassed all previous examples of leadership [how-not-to mainly] and violated all natural believabilty laws to the point where i have tried to actively disbelieve what i am seeing.
Tonights highlight was the simple fact that tonight, a Friday, he decided to finally make those changes to the POS system to accomodate some of his new changes-for-changes-sake purchases - none of the actual new products because that might be useful so we can sell that crap. Of course, because he doesn't really know how to do it, despite his claims otherwise, i mean it's pretty obvious because he mananged to fuck it up.
After i had coached the girls through working around the problem because right then wasn't the time to try to fix it, he came over and one of them told him some buttons were missing - obvious stuff, like "CORONA" which, you know, we sell. I handed him a list of the things that were missing, because i had been improvising for two hours and had already made note of them, and went back to banging out drinks for the girls. So it was to my horror that five minutes later one of the non-lazy servers, asked me where the Soco button was. It should be under liqueurs, but it's submenued under Bourbon on our system - whatever, but she should know that.
"There's no Bourbon, honey."
Grr.
Damn.
She's right. Where the fuck did the Bourbon button go. Uh-oh.
Number2 was in the office trying to fix things. Oh yes he was, and i stuck my head in and suggested that a busy Friday was perhaps not the time to be doing this, and after a minute and a blank stare, i suggested that since it's Friday and we're really busy, it's probably not a good time to be fucking with it. He understood that time. And didn't seem to like the way i said it. Despite me trying to be nice about it.
About twenty minutes later he's yelling at That Bond Girl about something, she is trying to deal with the phone for a take out order, and people standing waiting to be seated and has to wear a lecture from him at the same time. Two minutes later she carried my laptop over to me, told me she was leaving, and just like that, she walked on out, out of the restaurant, and who knows maybe out of my life. Perhaps to be another Street Player trenchmate who i lose contact with once we stop working together. Time will tell.
That's two now. First, somehow he manages to get Chapel, who is about as laid back and easygoing, and non-confrontational as they come, to straight out quit, and now That Bond Girl. I want to walk out, but as my trusty barback tells me, i have food, tv, internet, anything i could want to drink, people to talk to, and they give me money to be there, so Smokey really has no problem.
I'm so fucking tired.
One more day left.
Then a day off. And hopefully i don't do anything too stupid with it. I can feel that i need to rest.
So with the "Remember your failure at the tree Florida" still on my mind, and with the memories fading as fast as the tan, i hit a crossroad and i am wondering if i have taken the right path because it's not too late to turn back. As usual, one of the seven rules "trust your instincts" applies. And everyone else seems to have faith in me, so perhaps i am going in the right direction. I have a new keyboard for my battered Artoo unit Acer Travelmate.
My poor Acer! It really has served me so wonderfuly and faithfully these five years. Despite its non-gaming graphics - probably a good thing - i can not really complain about it.
I have not installed it yet, i am going to need an hour free [which between work and recovery and for what passes as a social life is not likely to be anytime soon] to fix it. It will be nice to have numbers again, and perhaps i will have a use for the function keys. The on screen keyboard is driving me mad.
I need to find a place to live and not just to crash. It's really pissing me off. But i have given Crazy Redhead my Tuesday shift, to stop her ceaseless bitching and paranoia, which is also pissing me off, and i can use that day or perhaps Wednesday before work [as if! don't see it happening] to find something at least for a month while Igg and Ogg, Tweedledum and Tweedleevenmorestupid, "Mike" and "Fiona" to my apparent "Sam" [i get to be Bruce Campbell - yay!], my two new roomies-to-be settle on a place. It's beginning to feel like "Glacial Pace" would be a fair assessment, but i suspect that is me getting edgy about not having anywhere to live.
I am having trouble at work and i think it's a matter of being sober. I think being sober makes it suck more. Especially with our new leadership who has surpassed all previous examples of leadership [how-not-to mainly] and violated all natural believabilty laws to the point where i have tried to actively disbelieve what i am seeing.
Tonights highlight was the simple fact that tonight, a Friday, he decided to finally make those changes to the POS system to accomodate some of his new changes-for-changes-sake purchases - none of the actual new products because that might be useful so we can sell that crap. Of course, because he doesn't really know how to do it, despite his claims otherwise, i mean it's pretty obvious because he mananged to fuck it up.
After i had coached the girls through working around the problem because right then wasn't the time to try to fix it, he came over and one of them told him some buttons were missing - obvious stuff, like "CORONA" which, you know, we sell. I handed him a list of the things that were missing, because i had been improvising for two hours and had already made note of them, and went back to banging out drinks for the girls. So it was to my horror that five minutes later one of the non-lazy servers, asked me where the Soco button was. It should be under liqueurs, but it's submenued under Bourbon on our system - whatever, but she should know that.
"There's no Bourbon, honey."
Grr.
Damn.
She's right. Where the fuck did the Bourbon button go. Uh-oh.
Number2 was in the office trying to fix things. Oh yes he was, and i stuck my head in and suggested that a busy Friday was perhaps not the time to be doing this, and after a minute and a blank stare, i suggested that since it's Friday and we're really busy, it's probably not a good time to be fucking with it. He understood that time. And didn't seem to like the way i said it. Despite me trying to be nice about it.
About twenty minutes later he's yelling at That Bond Girl about something, she is trying to deal with the phone for a take out order, and people standing waiting to be seated and has to wear a lecture from him at the same time. Two minutes later she carried my laptop over to me, told me she was leaving, and just like that, she walked on out, out of the restaurant, and who knows maybe out of my life. Perhaps to be another Street Player trenchmate who i lose contact with once we stop working together. Time will tell.
That's two now. First, somehow he manages to get Chapel, who is about as laid back and easygoing, and non-confrontational as they come, to straight out quit, and now That Bond Girl. I want to walk out, but as my trusty barback tells me, i have food, tv, internet, anything i could want to drink, people to talk to, and they give me money to be there, so Smokey really has no problem.
I'm so fucking tired.
One more day left.
Then a day off. And hopefully i don't do anything too stupid with it. I can feel that i need to rest.